


Making The Path Easier

by LemonPetitFour



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Fainting, Geralt takes care of Jaskier, Heat Stroke, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, heat exhaustion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 23:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30012654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonPetitFour/pseuds/LemonPetitFour
Summary: Jaskier has been feeling a bit overheated, and very much so tired. But he won't let Geralt know, the last think he wants to do is hold the witcher back and make a burden of himself.Well, until the heat becomes a bit too much and he passes out on the dusty trail.-Geralt takes care of his bard and worries that he may not want to stick around for much longer.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 206





	Making The Path Easier

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface this fic by saying I wrote this with the Netflix Witcher in mind, hence my usage of the name Jaskier rather than Dandelion, but my writing of Geralt actually stems more-so from a mixture of the games. I have played all three games, and pick and choose certain attributes of Geralt that I like from each. This sort of goes for Jaskier as well, with me picking out pieces of the character from the games. That in mind, I do hope you enjoy.

Look, name aside, Jaskier was no delicate flower. He’d been a bard and traveled from town to town playing in inns long enough to understand the hardships of travel. He had had his fair share of “roughing it,” so to speak. But Geralt? Geralt rode the path hard and put it up wet. He was relentless in his travel and refused to slow or rest for longer than strictly necessary. And it was wearing down on Jaskier.

He would whine here and there over little things, but he wasn’t going to genuinely let Geralt think he couldn’t handle some tired-ness and sore feet. The last thing he wanted the witcher to do was force him to stop following him or dump him at the next town because the bard was dragging him down.

But goddess, were his legs cramping. And was he hot. Even if his skin had goosebumps as if he was freezing cold, the heat had him sweating through his doublet. Geralt, in his full black armor was looking fine, if not a little sweaty. Damned witchers.

Jaskier was starting to get just a tad light-headed under the sun.

“Geralt, we should pull over and rest for a moment. I’m sure Roach could use a break.” He tried, holding tight onto his lute case strap. Geralt grunted.

“Roach is fine, bard.” He said, clipped. Jaskier sighed internally. It had been worth a shot. He went on, not complaining. The bard couldn’t fill the silence, not as he usually did, too tired to do anything but focus on one foot in front of the other. They went about for thirty more minutes, an hour, Geralt leading them along.

In truth, Jaskier couldn’t recall where they were going. Geralt had reminded him sometime earlier this morning, but Jaskier had been struggling to wake up too much to listen. He had been so tired.

Jaskier’s stomach churned, pulling him out of his thoughts. Oh that was… unpleasant. He faltered in his pace, slowing for a moment as the feeling roiled through him. He looked up, seeing Geralt still moving forward. Jaskier waited, then walked on, the feeling easing enough for him to move semi-comfortably.

Geralt said nothing, per usual. And Jaskier did the same.

Wow, he truly wasn’t feeling well. Had it always been this difficult to breath? Maybe his doublet was on too tight. And was it getting dark? Or were those spots…

-

“G-Geralt.” Jaskier got out, just before he stopped moving, swayed, and fell to the ground. Geralt heard the thump of him hitting the dusty ground. He pulled Roach to a stop with a curse, swinging himself off. He hurried over to the bard, something akin to worry creeping into his veins.

He knelt beside the bard, pulling him up into his arms. He was hot, heat radiated off his skin. Geralt felt for his pulse, the beat weak and frantic. Geralt cursed again. They weren’t too far from the nearest town, thankfully, but getting there would be an issue now.

Geralt could tell what this was, was upset for not having seen it earlier. The bard was heat-exhausted, suffered from heatstroke, which explained his recent fatigue. It wasn’t life-threatening, but Geralt would like to get the bard comfortable and back on his feet as soon as possible. Annoying as the bard was, he didn’t want him sick or hurting.

So Geralt hoisted Jaskier up onto Roach, pulling himself up behind him. He tied Jaskier’s lute case against the saddlebags, making sure it was secure. Geralt calmed Roach with a soft “steady” when she stamped her hoof unhappily at the extra weight. It wouldn’t be for long, Roach was strong and would be able to hold up for the time they needed.

He set off, urging Roach on now that he could truly feel the heat coming from the bard from where the man leant against his front. He held the reins in one hand and made sure to wrap an arm around Jaskier’s chest to keep him from slipping off the saddle. Geralt realized unhappily that this was Jaskier’s second time riding Roach, and both times were when he was sick or hurt.

He came up on the village, one he used to come across often, finding the inn quickly. He had Roach’s saddlebag across his shoulder, Jaskier in his arms, and the lute strapped against his back. He drew stares carrying an unconscious man in his arms, but it wasn’t any worse than what he was used to. He stepped in, finding the innkeeper, an older woman with long braided hair. He strode up to her, tilting his head far down to meet her eyes.

“A room please. With a bath. Room temperature water.” He started to shift Jaskier to one arm to fish out his coin, when the woman held out her hand.

“We can deal with payment in a moment, master witcher,” She reached under her desk, grabbing a key, “Follow me dear, I’ll get the door for you.” Geralt stared after her for a second as she walked up the stairs, not sure how to take this seemingly-kindness. And then followed, deciding not to question it for the time being. Jaskier was still a furnace in his arms and Geralt would like to get his temperature under control as soon as he could.

The woman led them up a set of stairs, unlocking a door and swinging it open for them. She placed the key on a bedside table before moving to leave.

“I’ll have the water brought up in just a moment dear. Room temperature, as you asked.” And then she left. Confused, but still deciding to leave it be, Geralt laid Jaskier down on the bed. The witcher set the saddlebag and lute against the wall, being extra careful with the instrument. He went about removing Jaskier’s doublet and chemise, pulling the sweat soaked undershirt off.

How had he not smelled the discomfort, the sweat? Geralt could pick up on the bitter scent now, the salty scent. He should have known something was wrong and taken action before this point. The bard had been so quiet, so visibly tired. The witcher should have at least let them rest more, stopped if not only to give Roach a break as the bard had asked.

There was a knock on the door, pulling Geralt out of his sullen thoughts. He opened the door, a few barmaids coming in to fill the tub. Geralt nodded to them in thanks, closing and locking the door again.

He went back over to Jaskier, still completely passed out. He helped the bard out of his boots, his pants, his smallclothes. They had seen each other naked before, it wasn’t a big deal when you lived a life on the path, but he felt bad for undressing the unconscious man. Surely Jaskier would understand.

He carried the bard over to the bath, easing him in. He wiped sweat off his face and chest. Maybe he should dig through Jaskier’s belongings to get some oils. The bard would appreciate that, Geralt thought. So he dug into Jaskier’s bag with all his meager belongings, finding a few bottles of oil. Hmm…

Jaskier always used chamomile for Geralt, gentle on his sensitive nose. Which one did Jaskier usually use..? There were only three bottles, so one of them had to be the chamomile, which was “Geralt’s oil,” as his bard dubbed it. So one of the other two was the one Jaskier used.

Geralt hesitantly sniffed one, smelling of citrus and some other herb that was too overwhelmed by the fruity smell for him to identify. Not that one. The other battle was lavender, smelling soft and downy. That was the bard’s oil, Geralt could tell now; he recognized the smell from when Jaskier got close enough that Geralt could smell him without trying.

He took the oil, striding back over the still-unconscious Jaskier. The bard seemed to be stirring minutely, but was still out cold. Or should he say warm. The cooler water must be helping if he was stirring, at least.

Geralt paused as he came back over. He didn’t do this, dote on the bard, that was Jaskier’s thing. Jaskier fussed over him, making sure his hair was combed and skin clean, berating him for when he got monster guts under his nails. The witcher found himself missing the bards incessant rambling, although Jaskier would surely say he was merely waxing poetry for Geralt. He wouldn’t admit to the bard that he was missing his words, not wanting to inflate the mans already impressive ego. Hopefully he would still want to travel with Geralt after this. This would be Jaskier’s second injury or illness in such a short time. Geralt wouldn’t blame him if the bard wanted to go off on his own now.

Geralt pushed all that aside, moving to wet Jaskier’s hair as best he could. He put the oil on his hands, running his fingers through the strands as carefully as he could manage. He felt awkward, out of place, but wanted to do his best. Jaskier had been, despite the occasional annoyance, a fine traveling partner. So he could do this one kindness for his bard.

He rinsed out Jaskier’s hair, smelling nicely of lavender. He rubbed the oil along Jaskier’s shoulders, upper chest, back. He didn’t feel comfortable doing much else while the bard was still unconscious. He could take another bath later if he wanted.

Geralt pulled Jaskier out of the water, dripping all over the wooden floor. He dried the bard off, sifted through his bag to find new clothes and redressed him. After a moment of consideration, he tucked the bard under the covers of their bed. His skin was much cooler now, temperature back to normal.

Satisfied, Geralt went downstairs to get some water. Surely Jaskier would be thirsty when he woke.

-

Jaskier woke up feeling far better than he had when he… fell asleep? Passed out? A little confused, he shifted around, pushing off a few thin blankets to sit up. He looked around, taking in the room. So they were in an inn. Jaskier definitely passed out. And Geralt carried him here, he supposed. Geralt, who was sitting in the floor, toying around with one of his blades.

He took inventory of himself. Oh, different doublet. Actually, he was in completely different clothes entirely. And he wasn’t sticky with dried sweat, and he smelt nice, like lavender…

His head whipped up to look at Geralt, the witcher coating his sword in some sort of dust.

“Did you wash me?” Jaskier asked, incredulous. Geralt looked up. He made a face, looking—dare Jaskier say—nervous for a moment.

“Mhmm,” Geralt said, sheathing his steel sword to pull out his silver one, “You smelt.” He said. Jaskier frowned.

“Well I was going to comment on how kind that was of you, oh mighty witcher, but now I don’t think I will after that comment.” Jaskier crossed his arms. Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Would you rather be laying in that bed caked with sweat and dirt?” Geralt asked, wiping down his blade with a cloth now.

“Of course not, I do have to keep up my bardly charm, now don’t I?” Jaskier asked, teasing seeping into his voice. Geralt hummed again. He sheathed his sword.

A pause fell over the room, hushed.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said. Jaskier stared, confused. Geralt fidgeted uncomfortably in Jaskier’s silence. “I should have recognized that you weren’t well. Or I should have let you rest more at night or take more breaks on the path. I forget you’re human sometimes,” He said, staring down at his hands. “I understand if you want to leave.” Jaskier gaped.

“You… have nothing to apologize for?” Jaskier said, coming out as a question in his confusion. He slid off of the bed, moving to stand in front of where Geralt sat on the floor. He expected Geralt to send him away, not say sorry. “I should apologize for not being able to hold my own,” He sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest to hold them.

“I don’t want to hold you back. I need to be able to keep up with you. The last thing I want to do right now is leave your side.” Jaskier said. Geralt frowned.

“You’re human, Jaskier. My normal pace isn’t meant to accommodate you. Us taking a few more breaks a day to keep you and Roach safe isn’t going to kill me.” He said, looking upset. Jaskier pouted.

“I was worried you’d want me gone after today. And in the end, you made sure I was okay, tended to me, and now insist on changing your routine to keep me by your side. Growing fond of this pestering bard, are you?” Jaskier teased, trying to bring the mood back around.

“Yes, I am.” Geralt said, dead serious. Jaskier wasn’t sure how to respond, a bit taken aback. Jaskier just offered a smile, the only thing he could think of.

“Wait did you go through my things?” Jaskier suddenly asked, remembering that he was in all new clothes. Geralt looked away again.

“Your clothes were sweaty. And I knew you’d probably want to smell nice—so I found your oil.”

“You tended to me so thoroughly, didn’t you dearheart?” Jaskier teased again, standing up.

“Don’t get used to it, bard.” Geralt said good heartedly, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“I think I’ll perform tonight,” Jaskier said, grabbing his lute from where it was leant against a wall, “I owe you some coin for that bath, and your oh-so-kind treatment.” He plucked at a few strings.

“I haven’t paid the innkeeper yet, we can both give her coin for her hospitality after you perform.” Geralt said. He held the door open for Jaskier, the bard stepping out with the witcher following him.

They headed downstairs, Jaskier already beginning to chatter at Geralt, clearly feeling better.

Jaskier went up to the innkeeper as Geralt found a table against the wall to sit at, probably trying to strike up a deal to pay for their room with his performance rather than coin. Geralt watched as the woman beamed at the bard, saying a few things excitedly. Jaskier gestured a few times with his hands, the woman gesturing right back excitedly, waving off towards the witcher as she continued smiling at the bard.

Jaskier turned and came over to Geralt, sliding next to him in the seat. He looked stunned.

“You not performing?”

“Oh, oh I will. In just a bit.” He said, looking a little awed. Geralt frowned.

“She—Geralt she… She’s so kind,” Jaskier says, turning to look at Geralt with those wide blue eyes. Geralt raised a brow, “She said we aren’t to pay, she is pleased to have a witcher in her inn. They had some other witcher come through weeks back, saved her son, slew some monsters stealing livestock and he refused coin,”

“She loves witchers, it seems. Knows my songs.” Jaskier laughed a little to himself.

“That’s not something you see every day.” Geralt says, surprised himself. Jaskier makes a face.

“Do I not sing your praises enough, master witcher.” He smirks, strumming his lute gently. He moves to stand, perhaps go perform.

“You do,” Geralt says before he can make off, “You make the path easier with your music.” He says, honestly. Jaskier’s face softens, fingers plucking strings idly.

“I do what I can.” He says. And then he turns to the crowd, calling out and warming them up. A barmaid slides a drink in front of Geralt, sending him a nod. He takes it, not turning down this easy kindness. He turns his attention to his bard as the man launches into “toss a coin.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Kudos and comments are appreciated.


End file.
